The next day, the sound of waves woke me and the three women in the tent.
I shared with them the events from the previous night as soon as they were awake. When Florence learned about the wildcat stealing our pheasant reserves, her expression fell.
When she stepped out of the tent and noticed her clothes had completely dried by the campfire, she immediately began removing my shirt to return it to me.
I found myself unable to look away from the scene before me.
As she removed the shirt, I caught a clear view of Florence in her delicate camisole, the thin straps resting on her smooth shoulders, a lace bra barely containing her curves, and the deep, snow-white cleavage between her breasts.
Even after Florence had changed back into her own clothes, my mind continued to wander. After all,
